


Refreezing

by faithfulDiscord



Series: Ice and Stone [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Break Up, Emotional Hurt, Heartbreak, M/M, Mind Palace, Mycroft Feels, Mycroft Holmes Has Feelings, Mycroft is a Bit Not Good, POV Mycroft Holmes, POV Third Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:35:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26335006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faithfulDiscord/pseuds/faithfulDiscord
Summary: "I told you not to fall in love with me."His voice is gentle even though the words are anything but.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade
Series: Ice and Stone [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1919272
Comments: 6
Kudos: 73





	Refreezing

**Author's Note:**

> I can't casually be in a fandom anymore!!!! Kudo and comment and there might be more to this story??? Maybe??? I dont know. But either way enjoy!

"I told you not to fall in love with me." 

His voice is gentle even though the words are anything but. Mycroft knows what is coming next. He's seen the signs as clear as day but chose to ignore them. Greg hasn't been distancing himself but Mycroft knows he's been holding back. His smiles have become less genuine, his touches less worshipful, and his words have been calculated and less free.

It's only been a month. 

He knows it was poor form on his part. He falls easily and opens himself up to be hurt. His heart is a fickle and frail little thing that he tries to hold back but it's futile. This was especially true with Greg unfortunately. The man that looks after Sherlock; oversees he doesn't fall back into his drug problem and keeps the madman at bay when he can. Not only was Gregory Lestrade in Mycroft's good books, he was only one of three people that ever made it to that list, he was also hopelessly Mycroft's type. 

Gentle and yet headstrong, morally strong and good, a bit of a dunce sometimes but overall exceptionally smart and sharp. The greying hair also being a check in a box of his best physical qualities. 

All in all, Mycroft Holmes was hopelessly in love with this man and there was nothing that could have stopped him.

He watches as Greg puts a cigarette between his lips and takes a drag as if he said nothing just a second ago. He hasn't even looked at Mycroft, he just looks forward into the rainy day of London from Mycroft's foyer. The day was winding down; they were eating and chatting just a few short minutes ago. 

_Greg_ -

He wants to start but he can see that it won't change anything, not this time. He makes himself take a step back mentally, to keep his emotions to himself and locked away, so they don't accidently show on his face. He will deal with his weaknesses on his own time. 

"Have a good night, Lestrade."

Greg finishes his cigarette as he nods. "You as well, Holmes." 

Mycroft watches for just a moment as Greg walks into the rain before closing the door. The deadbolt feels like an ending and a finality that he does not want to face but he knows he will have to by the end of tonight. He trails to the kitchen first for a finger of fine scotch before going to his office. He melts into the chair behind his desk and let's himself sink into his mind. 

The long marble hallway is familiar but cold, there are only a couple of doors on this level but there are some of the most important. Mummy and daddy first on the right, always combined, never to be seperated behind a beautiful oak door. They are nice memories of his youth and his days in their care. First door on the left, a dark navy metal door is for Sherlock. Every interaction, good or bad, hides behind this barrier. The room is chaotic but there is a beauty to it that he will not change for anything. Right next to Sherlock's is Greg's. The door is similar to his parent's but the difference is in the details. The wood grain is finer and more detailed, the wood is a rich burgundy color, and the metals are cast iron. The door has been here long before the relationship. 

Mycroft knew from the first day that Lestrade would be a major part of Sherlock's life and therefore he knew he would have to be aware of this man. The door opens gently and without sound. The room is spacious but homey, comfortable chairs and the memories hung up on the walls like pictures. The closest to the door are the most recent. 

_"I told you not to fall in love with me."_

Mycroft knows he will revisit this one, hopefully not soon but he knows it will happen. For tonight, while he still can, he throws a black sheet over the picture frame. The memory is not gone or forgotten or deleted, just shrouded in black and muffled so he can continue to function. The next one is similarly shrouded in black before the memory can fully be brought to the forefront. 

The third brings him pause. He knows exactly what the moment was. Horribly domestic as it was, this memory houses the exact moment Mycroft knew he was in love with him. 

He wakes up alone in his bed, which is not ideal but not surprising. The side Greg was on, is cold to the touch so he left some hours ago. He resigns himself to a lonely weekend when his bedroom door opens. It reveals Greg in sleep pants and a loose thread bare top, holding a cup of tea. 

"Good morning, sweetheart." The endearment still takes Mycroft's breath away. He hopes that he never quits calling him that. "I made breakfast. We'll eat and then have a lie-in. I think we both need it."

Mycroft throws the cloth over the picture frame before the next part. The gentle kiss they shared and how Greg pulled him into his arms. They swayed to invisible music only they could hear.

He doesn't let himself indulge in anymore memories, he just shrouds all of them in black before coming out of the room and locking the door behind him. The key is tucked away, retrievable but safe from him. 

Coming up from his mind palace is always a jolt to the system but he's learned how to take it slow. He lets himself blink into the real world and let's himself readjust. He moves his head to regain his bearings and feels a wetness on his cheek that wasn't there before. He wipes the tear away.

Emotions have always been strange and fickle things. Always a weakness, something he will put away and build full castles around so none of them will come back out again. 

He will protect and preserve himself, he lets himself freeze over once more. A sheet of ice encases his heart and his mind. There is nothing for him besides cold reality, he will survive this and anything to come.


End file.
